


this blind, unbroken trust

by allthemidnightmemories



Category: The Big Valley
Genre: Angst, Gen, S2E24: Court Martial, Sibling Rivalry, don't want to spoil things too early, i'll add more depending on how this goes, we LOVE good sibling conflict
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-04
Updated: 2020-07-10
Packaged: 2021-03-04 20:00:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,891
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25072009
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/allthemidnightmemories/pseuds/allthemidnightmemories
Summary: After the events of "Court Martial", Jarrod realizes his actions uncovered old wounds - and opened new ones. What will it cost to heal them?NOTE: Spoilers for S2E24 "Court Martial" - don't read if you don't want to know how it ends. (I feel like spoiler alerts for 50-year-old Westerns are pretty null and void, but this story will also make a whole lot more sense. anyways - you've been warned.)
Relationships: Jarrod Barkley and Nick Barkley
Comments: 2
Kudos: 23





	1. Chapter 1

Heath was the first to forgive him.

The morning after Alderson confessed his crimes, Jarrod found his fair-haired brother kneeling by the parlor window he’d sailed through the night before, sleeves pushed up, whistling away as he carefully swept up the glass shards. Jarrod stepped through the door like he was trapped in molasses, afraid to enter a room where he was unsure of the welcome he’d receive. It had been two years since he’d found this brother in this very same room, and he hadn’t dared to think about the possibility of losing him again.

Heath heard the tentative footsteps and glanced over his shoulder at Jarrod, who gently massaged his palm in an uncharacteristic display of nerves. He’d watched his older brother defend criminals before hostile juries and persuade even the most impartial of judges – yet here he stood, hand shaking, looking ready to launch into a carefully worded defense of what he’d done last night. But Heath stood up straight and held out his hand before Jarrod spoke a word.

“It’s alright.”

“Heath, I—”

“You didn’t know we were coming back early. You didn’t see any other way. It’s alright.”

Jarrod released a breath he didn’t know he’d been holding, and gratitude flooded his blue eyes as he shook Heath’s hand. A ghost of a smile glinted on Heath’s face before breaking into a crooked smile.

“Though it should be you fixing up this window, I reckon,” said Heath, nodding towards his own handiwork. “But you’ve got to admit, it was a mighty fine idea at the time.”

The tension shattered as both brothers laughed, and Jarrod removed his coat and joined in repairing the damage.

That’s the way things were with Heath – a few genuine words, and time spent together in silence, and it was like the court martial had never happened.

With Audra, his guilt felt more acute. The acrid smell of smoke wafting through the halls from the attic was a constant reminder of how disastrous the night could have been, and truth be told, Jarrod felt worst of all about endangering his baby sister. But he’d located a string of pearls from San Francisco that he’d intended to give to her after the mock trial anyways, paired them with few heartfelt words for her, and all was forgiven.

Mother was even kinder – she’d always trusted Jarrod’s judgement, and his discernment between right, wrong, and everything in between had always been her greatest pride in her eldest son. When he approached her in the same way he’d approached Heath, he found himself once again devoid of the words he’d prepared. And yet she smiled and wordlessly brushed his hair away from his forehead before leaving him alone in the hallway.

As he watched his mother walk away, Jarrod sheepishly realized that though he was grateful, he’d expected this. Though he felt guilty for his ruse, he knew deep down that cooler heads would prevail, and all would be forgiven. Well, almost all.

* * *

But Nick was another story. 

After explaining his reasons with Nick in the pool room, Jarrod had believed things were resolved between the two of them. But reality told a different story – one where Nick’s hasty forgiveness was a ruse of its own.

As Jarrod had entered the foyer after helping Heath replace the window, ready to draw up a few contracts for his next week’s trip to San Francisco next, he watched his middle brother bound down the stairs toward the door.

“Heading out to the north pasture today?” Jarrod inquired.

Nick’s cold brown eyes were void of the usual mirth and affection, and he snatched his hat from the rack and left without a word.

Jarrod sighed, his shoulders sinking. Nick’s trust was hard to gain, and harder to keep. But he’d done what he thought was right – and wasn’t that the best he could do?

* * *

The icy tension was no secret in the Barkley home, though for Jarrod’s sake the others did their best to ignore Nick’s stony silence. In truth, the silence scared Jarrod more than an outburst, or Nick’s flying fist, or any of the other outwardly volatile expressions his brother used on others who tried his patience. Silence was unreadable. Silence left the lawyer at no advantage. Silence meant that there was either nothing – or too much – to be said. 

Things came to a head on the third morning, as Nick left the breakfast table without a word to any of them. Jarrod met his mother’s eyes before following the heavy footsteps into the foyer.

“Nick, you can’t ignore me forever.”

“I very well can, Jarrod.” His voice was even, eerily calm, but as Jarrod saw fire in Nick’s dark eyes. “In fact, I’m just getting started.” He grabbed his hat from the rack and headed out into the crisp spring morning, and Jarrod followed him onto the veranda.

“Oh come on now, Nick. I explained it all to you the other night - I couldn’t risk it! What other way can I say–”

“Couldn’t risk what? Tell me that again, brother.”

“Risk giving any sign that the whole thing was a sham. I knew you and Alderson were close, and I didn’t know how you’d take it. I was trying to protect you.”

“Oh, so it was for _my_ sake! Well thank you very much for that load of crap, Mr. Barkley. Why don’t you tell me the truth? That you’ve got so little faith in me that you couldn’t—”

“Now hold on a minute!” Jarrod crossed the porch and stood directly in Nick’s line of sight. “I didn’t say—”

“Oh, you don’t have to, Jarrod. If you don’t, Stockton will. Nick Barkley, the hothead who looks before he leaps. The idiot who falls for the wrong kind of girls and shoots up the wrong man, the bigot who framed a bunch of gypsies for something they didn’t do, the one who thinks with his fist and not his brain. Don’t you think I know who they think I am? Who _you_ think I am?” He whipped away from Jarrod and stomped toward the barn. Suddenly, he stopped and spun on his heel to face his elder brother.

“Meanwhile, _you’re_ the college graduate, the big city lawyer who comes to call on the weekends, taking down notorious war criminals in such _sophisticated_ style” – Nick’s voice dripped with sarcasm - “and he knows, deep down, that he’s the Barkley everyone means when they talk nice about us. Go on, say it. Say you’re the best of us. Say you’re the Barkley that can do no wrong.”

Nick’s voice raised with every sentence, spittle flying as the arrows of words flew from his mouth. Jarrod’s chest tightened, and he clenched his hand into a fist – counting to ten the way his father had taught him all those years ago.

“Not our fair sister. Not our half-brother. Not the hot head. Oh, you _know_ it’s you.”

He made it to four.

“And when the _hell_ did I ever say that?” Jarrod exploded. “I hated putting you through that night and I wish to God it didn’t have to be that way. But don’t you _dare_ put words that aren’t mine in my mouth. I won’t lie so you can justify this – this bitterness, or whatever it is you hold against me. I did what I thought was best, and I won’t apologize for that.”

A snarl crept across Nick’s face, twisting his handsome features.

“Knew I was right. It’s alright, brother. You just go on with your self-righteous, savior parade. And I’ll be right behind you, cleaning up the shit you’re too good for.”

It was like a cork popped open in Jarrod, an ice-cold rage that bubbled over in the pit of his stomach and flooded over Nick’s red-hot accusations – and all the guards he’d put up, all the walls that made him such a good lawyer melted away. In two seconds he’d closed the gap between them and slammed Nick’s nose before he could utter another insult.

Though Jarrod was the smaller of the two men, the sudden force made Nick stumble backwards into the dirt. His hand traced the small stream of blood that flowed from his nose, and for a half second (which felt like an hour to them both) he was silent. The elder Barkleys had fought many times, but Jarrod had never hit Nick first – and never with such a cheap shot.

Jarrod’s stomach felt sick. He turned to the veranda and saw his mother, Heath, and Audra – they’d heard it all. He wasn’t close enough to see the expressions on their faces, but he didn’t have to see them to know that he’d ripped a gaping hole in the thing he loved most in the world. 

And had Jarrod been looking another way, he would have seen the flash of hurt in Nick’s eyes before fury overtook them – but he wasn’t looking, and the next sensation he felt was his own body slamming into the ground.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, this is my first foray into the wonderful world of writing for the Big Valley (one of the greatest TV westerns, in my humble opinion). Still working on getting the voices right, but I hope I've done them proud. In my opinion, Court Martial is one of the best episodes BV ever did. However, like a lot of BV episodes, I felt that there was more to this story that could be told. Let me know what you think in the comments - I'm ALWAYS down to freak out over a 50 year old western!


	2. Chapter 2

The brand-new parlor windowpanes sparkled in the sun, and Jarrod shielded his eyes as he held the cold cloth to his cheekbone. Sighing wearily, he turned back to the same page of the contract he’d been reading for nearly an hour.

 _Say it. Say you’re the best of us._ The words kept replaying like an unwanted symphony, a lie he didn’t believe – so why did the lie cut to his core?

He gave up on reading for a brief moment and stared out onto the yard where merely an hour before, he and Nick had rolled around haphazardly before Audra ran out to intervene. 

The specifics were fuzzy to Jarrod – he remembered Audra’s flash of golden hair as she tumbled into the melee, her screams, Heath trying to pull her off, and suddenly he and Nick were no longer one tangled mass. Nick’s lip was split and his nose continued to bleed, the dirt mixing with the blood into reddish-brown war paint.

And war Nick had declared.

_But I threw the first punch._

_Yes, but he threw out the first insult._

What puzzled Jarrod most of all was the deep, soul crushing nature of the words. It hurt deeper than the ache in his arms and his left side where Nick had landed a right hook.

_Nick’s never held his tongue before – why do these words hurt?_

An unwelcome memory surfaced, and he tried to push it away. No, that couldn’t be the answer. That happened years ago. But the memory was unrelenting, and grabbed his attention as if it was happening right there in the parlor.

* * *

_He saw it all – the small wooden desks, the dusty chalkboard at the front of the room, and a small, dark haired boy crowded in with all the other pupils – his first day of school. He remembered the patched brown pants, the shirt that was too short in the arms, the battered slate in front of him next to a neatly aligned pencil._

_They weren’t wealthy that first year – or the first few years, for that matter. But his Mother had done her best to make him presentable, and he had decided that he would be on his best behavior – if not for himself, then for her._

_“Jarrod, you’re the first Barkley to ever attend school in Stockton. That’s a very important job, you know,” Victoria had said, smiling through tired eyes as she held his brother after another sleepless night up with him._

_“Yes, Mother,” he’d replied solemnly._

_“This is the start of our new life here – of your new life. Do your best, and make us proud.”_

_“I will, Mother.”_

_There was a certain solemnness in the air to their life in Stockton – he hadn’t known then how close to death he’d been that previous winter, but he was perceptive enough to sense a shift. After the winter in the mountains, something had changed. And somehow, at five years old, he knew things that most children wouldn’t know for many, many years._

_And one of those things he knew was that his name bore a responsibility. That name – it was his name first. His to carry, his to tarnish. And he’d do his best to honor it._

_So when the headmistress called “Jarrod Barkley”- the first name on the list - he stood up like a tiny soldier reporting for duty, and said “Here, ma’am.”_

_He ignored the snickers of the older kids at his eagerness. Much like he ignored their taunts as they targeted him after school, until they chased him down the alley by the old general store. His lungs weren’t quite right after his bout with pneumonia, and the older kids wanted to make sure he knew his place._

_That evening, his father had found him in the corner, weeping near the woodstove. The elder Barkley smoothed away the tear from his son’s bruised eye and pulled Jarrod to his feet, hands resting on both shoulders._

_“Papa, I couldn’t outrun them,” he whimpered. His father nodded, and looked away for a moment, a pensive look on his face._

_“Jarrod, when I go out hunting, what animals are hardest to catch?”_

_He thought for a moment. “The fastest ones?”_

_An imperceptible smile lit across his father’s face. “No. The smartest ones.”_

_Jarrod cocked his head in confusion. “You mean I’m supposed to run away? I thought I’m s’posed to be brave and strong – like you, Papa.”_

_Tom Barkley pulled his son onto his knee. “Jarrod, you don’t have to use a fist to solve a problem. Yes, sometimes the time calls for it. And someday you may be able to fight back like the others. But if the deer charges right at me, it doesn’t stand a very good chance against me and my rifle, now does it?”_

_Jarrod slowly nodding, an understanding washing over him. His father smiled._

_“You’re a Barkley, Jarrod. If you can’t be strong one way – well, we’ll find another one. And mark my words - you’ll make us proud. I know you will.”_

* * *

He returned to the present moment as quickly as he’d left it. Those schoolyard days were often far from his mind, but when they returned, he remembered it all – the many books he’d read after school, waiting for the older kids to tire of waiting for him in the alleys and leave their posts in time for dinner.

As he got older, his childhood tormentors faded into the mines and ranches of the Valley, and soon Jarrod was the sole remaining pupil from his early classes. In those days he’d grown stronger, but those early years – the years he learned to fight in his _own_ way, those could never be taken away from him.

He grew taller, stronger, and found that he was a popular consultant for schoolyard disagreements – never snitching to the schoolmarm, always seeking a resolution that helped both sides. Though words weren’t the fastest way to solve a problem, they hurt a lot less than a fist – and they most certainly had a greater chance of both parties being satisfied.

That was something Nick would never realize – that ever since that first day in the classroom, it was Jarrod's unspoken duty to uphold the family name. And he’d had to do it _his_ way – not the usual way that men fought for power and prestige in this new frontier, the way Nick threw around his words and his fists with equal carelessness. Jarrod _had_ to be smarter – it was the only way he knew how. 

No matter what Nick or Audra did, they could hold on to some respectability as long as _he_ was respectable.

The eldest, the trailblazer – he _needed_ to be better.

That’s why he couldn’t affirm Nick’s scathing words this morning – that’s why they hurt so much. Because it wasn’t a lie after all. It was the truth – and no one but him could understand why it had to be that way. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> well. I was definitely not expecting to post another chapter soon, but these words just kind of fell out so here they are. I was also not planning on including Tom - I know he's complicated for many people to write and people have their opinions (doesn't help that he's dead for 100 percent of the canon), but this is definitely a softer iteration of him, and I liked the idea of him being the voice of reason in this particular situation. anyways, pardon any grammar or logistical errors due to the speed of this publication, and hope you enjoy!


	3. Chapter 3

Nick winced as his horse jostled his recently acquired injuries.

_I swear, if Audra hadn’t thrown herself in…_

The other ranch hands were rounding up the cattle to move to the north pasture, save for one lone steer that had escaped from the fold.

“Cooper!” Nick called out to the nearest hand, but he was too far away to get a response. So Nick took off to gather the lone escapee.

Cattle don’t have opinions, he thought to himself. Cattle didn’t make you question yourself or hurt your pride – and if they did hurt you, it was just because they didn’t know any better.

The steer pranced around in the dry brush, bellowing a low, sad call. Nick approached it slowly and circled it, eyeing the potential escape routes of the rebellious animal.

“C’mon, now! Git!” He snapped his stock whip towards the steer, but it simply wandered further up the hill, stopping to munch on a patch of sweet clover.

“Why, you….get on, now, go!” Nick ventured as close as he dared and shoved the steer with his boot. The animal brayed once more, and turned back towards the rest of the herd, in no hurry to rejoin his peers.

Nick watched it for a moment – the slow, lumbering beast, heading back without regard for Nick’s bellowing or his whip – and sighed.

“Yeah, I know. It’s rough when you stick out,” he mumbled softly to himself. The brawl with Jarrod that morning had rustled up something unwanted inside himself, something even he was afraid to admit to. Anger was easy – it came in bold, red flashes, hot bursts of air that feathered away into nothing once he’d let it out. Envy? Hurt? Those were harder. 

As he rode back to the other hands, he recalled all his tangled thoughts from these last few days. Truth be told, he wasn’t angry about Alderson now. Sure, he’d respected the man – until he found out he was a traitor. If there was one thing Nick hated more than a traitor, it was a coward. Alderson got what was coming to him.

But Jarrod…something about the _way_ he’d done the whole court martial bristled beneath his skin. For three days, he couldn’t find the words - if he'd known, he’d have said them sooner. Instead, he’d blown his top at Jarrod this morning, and while he knew those words hurt, he hadn’t planned them. They just slipped.

And that was terrifying.

 _Say you’re the best of us._ Where the hell had that come from? He thought of a thousand other rehearsed retorts – _how dare you endanger this family, you made me out to be a fool –_ but that anger was only surface-level. What hurt was that Jarrod didn’t trust him – and that he so easily lied to Nick when he believed he was in the right.

 _You didn’t trust me._ Nick fought the needlepoints of hurt that pricked his eyes. Sure, he was a loose cannon at times. He always had been. Maybe a little unpredictable. 

But why did that make him a lesser man in his brother’s eyes?

* * *

_It was a warm spring day, leaves just sprouting in the trees – and he’d ruined it all. What was supposed to be a fun day at the annual school picnic had turned into him throwing a punch at Wally Freedman for saying that Tom Barkley was a lying cheat who’d stolen his pa’s land, and ended with the whole picnic being broken up early._

_Jarrod accompanied him home, and Nick knew that he’d pushed his even-tempered brother over the edge by the long strides that Jarrod took, as if he was trying to escape some toxic cloud Nick carried around him. Jarrod wouldn’t look him in the eyes, so Nick turned and faced forward, glancing down every so often to make sure he was keeping stride with Jarrod’s lengthening legs._

_They’d almost reached the house when Jarrod stopped._

_“Do you have to ruin_ everything?” _Jarrod snapped suddenly._

_Nick puffed out his chest in 8-year-old defiance. “I wasn’t gonna let him say those things about Pa- “_

_“Well, congratulations. You defended us, alright,” Jarrod sneered, reaching for the gate._

_Nick huffed and crossed his arms, defiantly refusing to enter through the gate. He knew what punishment awaited him, the paddle hanging over the back door waiting to greet him like it did most days._

_“You don’t get it, do you?” hissed Jarrod, grabbing Nick’s shoulder and shaking it. “When you blow up like a powder keg in front of everyone – do you know what they think of us?” He didn’t stop for an answer. “They think that Barkleys are like you – ornery, no-good scoundrels, always looking for a fight."_

_When Nick still didn’t answer, Jarrod dropped his hand and sighed, eyes narrowing._ “ _You really don’t see how selfish you’re being, do you?”_

_Selfish? How could Jarrod say that?_

_“You’re not thinking of the family when you go lay into Wally because he says something mean about Pa, you’re thinking about you. Your chance to make a name, be a big man. Well, you’re not. Not when you make Mother go to the school for the third time this month, and everyone in town wonders why she can’t handle her own children. You’re just plain selfish. It’s no wonder I’ve got to behave for the both of us.”_

_Tears pricked the corners of Nick’s eyes - he hadn’t known that that’s what the folks in Stockton said every time his mother walked by._

_“But…Jarrod, he said those things-” Didn’t Jarrod feel it? That blinding, white hot feeling that flared between his eyes when someone hurt him, and made it so he couldn’t help but hit something?_

_“Just ignore them. That’s what I do. You’ve got to be better than them. Smarter.” Jarrod turned and walked in the house, leaving his little brother alone in the dusty street._

_That’s what you do, Nick thought. But what about me?_

_That night, he lay in his trundle bed, trying to think of any other way. It was no secret he wasn’t as smart as Jarrod – the numbers and letters often got scrambled in his head, and he’d been caught daydreaming in class more times than he could count on two hands. This wouldn’t be the first time he’d fallen short of his brother’s high marks._

_The question still haunted him – would he ever be able to be better than Jarrod?_

_He propped himself up on one elbow and looked at his older brother, sound asleep in the bed above him._

_Jarrod, you’re always gonna beat me. I can’t be better than you._

* * *

Nick’s head suddenly jerked up. Those days were in the past - the Barkleys had risen to a respected rank in Stockton society over the years, the kind of people that other ranchers turned to in times of trouble. Now, being a Barkley was a legacy worth protecting, rather than something that had to be clawed and fought for at every turn, like those hardscrabble early days. But the truth remained - he'd always be second in the family line. 

_Always second best._

He noticed the lone steer was back in the fold – properly reprimanded, properly disciplined, put back in line. Until the next time.

He glanced over his shoulder and took stock of the darkening sky above the mountains. Boy howdy, Heath would've said. We’re about to have ourselves a storm.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Boy howdy indeed - we've got ourselves a story.
> 
> Edit: I wanted to add one small note regarding my interpretation of how the Barkleys ascended to prominence in the Valley - there's mention in "By Fires Unseen" from Victoria about how difficult the early years were when they crossed the mountains. From that, I estimate that it took them a good 10 or 15 years before they really started to build their empire. Often, resentment seems to rise from others in Stockton because of how the Barkleys came to power, but there's no real indication from the Barkleys that they came to the valley with incredible wealth and I find it more interesting to think they built on that with hard work and a lot of luck. Anyways, just my view of things!


End file.
